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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27601435">Is it His Fault?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canada2/pseuds/DaddyG'>DaddyG (Canada2)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Everlasting [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>/ope, Gen, I was just informed that this is a tag I should add, Temporary Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:02:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27601435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canada2/pseuds/DaddyG</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 4. we're getting somewhere boys.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy laying awake thinking about some of his scars.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dave | Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Everlasting [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010208</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>162</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Is it His Fault?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>It was dark, barely lit with the blue torches that hung on the walls. Hushed whispers of excitement and giggles of hope, they crawled further into the bunker, safe from anyone trying to hurt them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why was this so familiar?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tubbos’ quiet laughter got his attention, with a smile he joined him and the others bouncing further underground. Safe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“L’Manburg strong!” soften cheers, and laughter rings out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“L’Manburg strong!” they echo, hopping down the steps.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Like they were kids again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>Somethings off..</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly, chests surround them, promising tools and resources to defeat Dream and his gang at long last. They could win! Take their home, and be free at long last. This was it!</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>..they were empty.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Screams filled the small room as the enemy crawled out of the walls like cockroaches, and killed his friends. Blood splattered on the walls and their bodys hit the floor.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dream’s blank mask staring endlessly as he rounded on Tommy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He got him in two swipes of his sword.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>One across the front.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And the other..</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>..forever marking his back as a reminder of Erets betrayal.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>_____________________</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy lay awake in Pogtopia, staring at his ceiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why was it like this?</span>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>Because you don’t deserve it.</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where did it all go wrong? </span>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>It was always wrong.</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was it him?</span>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>Yes.</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Did, did </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> do something?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strike>Every time</strike>
  </em>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>.</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was always like this, no matter where Tommy went, destruction and endless betrayal followed. Maybe he was broken. He sure looked like it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the faint glowing of an old torch, Tommy examined his skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pale and white from wearing his long sleeve shirt in the summer, and absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>covered</span>
  </em>
  <span> in scars. The body refreshes after death, all illness and injuries disappear, cleansed from the body. And then their dust is brought back in one piece and their fine. Almost.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the same principle of cutting wood with a saw, you always have a little less wood then you start out with, at the cost of cutting it. Same with your body, some of the dust gets lost along the way and never really makes it back to where it’s supposed to be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy knows this, everyone does, it's common knowledge. Still..</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes trace the small nicks and indents across his fingers and hands. Small petty fights, out of fun and adventure. No real meaning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unlike the one alongside his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>The rattle of sticks, no, bones.</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hand moves on it’s own, brushing the scar.</span>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>It's slightly raised. A keloid scar, then</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or the one on his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>He farmed for hours, who does that?!</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He brings up his shirt, the scar is fairly small, only about the size of a potion cork, but it's dark. Only by a few shades, but dark enough to see from a distance. </span>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>Enough to be noticeable. And now it was ruined.</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This one he got from Technoblade.</span>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>And Dream.</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not one of his proudest moments,</span>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    
    <em>
      <span>But a moment he will treasure all the same</span>
    </em>
    <span>.</span>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A little bit lower and to the left, he has one from Tubbo.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His best friend.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    
    <em>
      <span>He actually has quite a few from him, but that doesn’t matter.</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was from a stone sword. Tubbo’s first time beating him in a duel. The sword had gone all the way through, leaving an exit wound on his back as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <em>
      <span>He was so cool, not as cool as him but cool all the same. In fact-</span>
    </em>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The look of fondness was wearing slowly melting into something more somber.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only other scar Tommy could think of off the top of this head that also adorns his back was one he got from Dream. It doesn’t matter that he got it from Dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <strike>
    <span>It does.</span>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Eret betrayed them. Betrayed him. All for a crown. </span>
  <strike>
    <span>A stupid piece of gold to wear on his stupid head. </span>
  </strike>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The scar itself was something to behold. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Starting at the top of his left shoulder blade traveling to the tip of his hip on the opposite side. Just barely missing the scar he had gotten from Tubbo. The width of a good stick, and as long as a sword. The edges were raised and angry, the skin around it was pink and puffy from the burns of Dreams sword. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All and all, not a pretty sight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still..</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The soft clicking of shoes alerted Tommy of someone's presence. Quickly, fighting with his shirt before he just threw it to the cave floor, he rolled over and frained sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tommy? Hey, Tommy, ya asleep?” Techno. What was he doing up? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Farming probably. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was quiet, </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>approaching footsteps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His bed dipped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A cold, calloused hand touched his back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took everything in his power not to shudder at the cold.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And with all the care a blood god could have, he gently traced the very scar Tommy had been thinking about. It felt weird, and personal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah Toms. Why do you do this to yourself?” embarrassed and a little ashamed, Tommy shifted. And Techno stopped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then slowly, he left.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Why indeed.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you couldn't tell, this does take place further into the future than the other ones did. I am going to trace my steps a little, for the duel. but until then, please leave a comment. About anything. please. i am desprate for attention.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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